


Nothing Good

by YukiRiikus_Reading_Room



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst and Feels, Bastard John Winchester, Cutting, Hurt Dean Winchester, Other, Self-Destruction, Teen Angst, Teen Years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-17
Updated: 2013-01-17
Packaged: 2017-11-25 21:13:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/643010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YukiRiikus_Reading_Room/pseuds/YukiRiikus_Reading_Room
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He should have known nothing good could happen at 3 am.</p><p>Especially not when Dad was just getting home and smelled like whiskey and gunpowder.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing Good

He should have known nothing good could happen at 3 am.

Especially not when Dad was just getting home and smelled like whiskey and gunpowder.

Dean knew that the case had been a hard one, that his Dad was beating his head against the wall trying to figure out what was killing both the cattle and the people of Hoboken, New Jersey.  He was doing everything he could to help.  Between taking care of Sammy and trying to help his father do research, Dean was at his wit’s end and barely keeping up with his school work.  He was beginning to wonder if at fifteen he was shouldering too much responsibility, that too much was being expected of him.

Not that he was about to tell his Dad that.

“Did you find anything?”  Dean asked, getting the fast food container he’d picked up for his Dad early out of the microwave and setting down on the table.  His father grunted his thanks as he collapsed down into the seat, propping his shotgun up against a leg of the table.

“Nothing yet, but a few leads looked promising.  I’ll follow up on them tomorrow.”  John said gruffly, one hand rubbing at the deep lines on his forehead etched there by stress and exhaustion.  “Sam asleep?”

“Sent him to bed hours ago.”  Dean said curtly, dropping down into the chair across from his father.  He shifted nervously, clearing his throat.  “Dad, I need you to sign something for me for school tomorrow.”

“What is it?  Field trip form or something?”  John asked, holding out a hand for it.  Dean picked up the paper from the end of the table where he’d put it earlier in the day, his face going pale.  He didn’t say anything as he handed it to his father, silently saying a prayer that he would just sign it without looking at it too closely.

Of course, he had no such luck.

“What the hell is this?”  John asked, his voice rising angrily.  Dean swallowed, looking down at the table top.  “You failed an exam?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t have time to study the last few days!”  Dean said desperately, looking up at his father.  He looked livid, his jaw set in a scowl.  “I’ve been really swamped this week helping you research and taking care of Sammy, I didn’t make enough time to study.  It won’t happen again, I swear.”

“I expect better from you from now on, understand?”  John said, Dean nodding at once as he watched his father sign the exam.  As he handed it back, his eyes burned into his son’s.  “Don’t disappoint me again.”

“I won’t.”

“Good. Now get to bed.”

Dean slouched off to the room he shared with Sam, shutting the door behind him. The test fell from his hand to the floor as he sank to his knees, his shoulders shaking with quiet sobs.

He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever make his father proud of him, if he would ever be good enough to stop being one big disappointment. 

Sneaking into the bathroom he locked the door, breathing heavily.  It was just one more, he thought as he pulled back the sleeve of his shirt, just one more to take the edge off.  Reaching into this pocket he pulled out his knife and flicked it open, examining the blade. 

He knew this was bad coping mechanism, that he shouldn’t, but he didn’t care. 

His father said he was disappointed in him.

As he pressed the blade into his arm Dean gritted his teeth, calming once he saw red and the familiar sense of sickening peace washed over him.  He quickly cleaned off his knife and put it back into his pocket, staring down at the mark he’d made on his forearm.  He knew if Sam found out he’d be worried, but it wasn’t enough to make him stop doing it.

He couldn’t stop, not when his Dad made him feel unworthy and ashamed.

Dean wiped away the blood and changed into his pajamas, suddenly exhausted.  As he crawled into bed he couldn’t help but wonder if his father knew how he coped with the stress, if he would stop laying so much on his shoulders.

He wondered if his Dad would even care.


End file.
